


Christmas Trees and Family History

by theartistprince



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, basically holiday family fluff times, some poly-phobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-01
Updated: 2013-05-01
Packaged: 2017-12-10 03:46:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/781403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theartistprince/pseuds/theartistprince
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sequel to "Wildflowers and Art History".  They have to make the rounds over Christmas break and it's a far more exhausting task than anyone could expect. </p><p>Written for the E/R/É Shipping Festival.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas Trees and Family History

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the sequel to Wildflowers and Art History, though you likely shouldn't need to read it first. Happy E/R/É shipping festival!

Enjolras quickly scrambled for his cell phone as the sounds of his alarm echoed around the bedroom. The man beside him pushed his nose further into Enjolras’s collarbone, eager to shut out the noise. 

“Five more minutes,” Grantiare muttered, his voice muffled by Enjolras’s chest.

Enjolras merely shook his head. “We have to get ready,” Enjolras informed the other man, rolling out of his embrace. “The train leaves in an hour and a half and it’ll take us half an hour to get there.”

“It isn’t even dawn yet,” Grantaire argued, pulling Enjolras’s pillow to his chest as a half-hearted replacement for his boyfriend. “There won’t be any traffic yet.”

“It’s Paris,” Enjolras disagreed, pulling a t-shirt over his head. “There’s always traffic.”

“And here I thought I was in love with an optimist,” Grantaire snarked, turning his back on Enjolras.

Enjolras sighed and threw a pair of jeans at Grantaire. “Get up, Grantaire. And could you bring some of the bags to the door? I’m going to get Éponine.”

Enjolras padded softly out into the living room, the light of the small Christmas tree giving the otherwise dark room a slight glow. He made his way towards the couch, crouching down beside it to stir the young woman who had made it her bed for the evening.

Éponine, in a vain attempt to gather as much money as she could with the impending holidays, opted to take one more shift at the bar she worked in before the trio’s frantic attempt to cover all of their families over the holiday season. Her hair was still damp from the shower she had likely forced herself into to wash the smell of alcohol off her. She was wrapped tightly in Grantaire’s hoodie and the couch blanket and it pained Enjolras to have to wake her.

But they had a train to catch.

“Éponine,” he urged, pushing some of her damp hair off her face. “Come on, you have to get up.”

Éponine’s eyes fluttered for a moment before taking in Enjolras across from her. “What time is it?” She asked, rubbing her eyes as she forced herself to sit up.

“4:30,” he responded shortly before standing. “Grantaire’s getting the luggage together and then we have to go.”

Éponine stood, letting the blanket slip to the ground, revealing that she had truly only been wearing the hoodie. She slipped her arms around his waist, burrowing her head into his chest.

“I’m tired,” she sighed, nuzzling closer as Enjolras wrapped an arm around her.

“You can sleep on the train,” Enjolras promised, glancing at his watch behind her. 

Grantaire walked into the living room, giving Éponine a small smile as he dropped the three duffel bags in front of the door. He walked back over to Enjolras and Éponine and wrapped his arms around both of them.

“We’ll get through this,” Grantaire promised, his voice still laced with the remains of sleep. “We’ll visit Enjolras’s parents, we’ll visit mine and in four days we’ll be back in Paris with Gavroche and Azelma. Then we’ll watch Muppet’s Christmas Carol and Home Alone, make cookies and have a proper Christmas.”

Enjolras and Éponine made faint sounds of agreement before the trio separated, rushing around the apartment to grab the last minute luggage. Éponine quickly scooped the gifts into another piece of luggage while Enjolras packed their electronics and Grantaire took care of the toiletries. 

“Did anyone pack our formal wear?” Enjolras asked, thinking with disdain to his parents’ horrible idea of a family gathering.

“I did yesterday,” Éponine confirmed. “It’s all hanging in the closet.”

Enjolras nodded, moving towards the closet. He threw their coats onto a nearby chair and grabbed the grey garment bag. Grantaire and Éponine placed the last minute luggage onto the ground and pulled on their coats. Éponine had taken the opportunity to pull on a pair of jeans, but she was still comfortably drowning in Grantaire’s sweater.

“Everyone ready?” Enjolras asked, earning nods from the other two before they locked up their apartment, ready to embark on their Christmas adventure.

-

Éponine slumped against Grantaire, who immediately wrapped an arm around her shoulders. His other hand clutched a pencil, poised above a fresh page on his sketchbook. 

“Ugh,” Éponine grunted as the train pulled out of the station, already beginning to rock. “I hate the train.”

Enjolras leaned his head on the window of the train, his blond curls sticking to the mist-covered surface. “It’ll take two hours to get there,” he said, leaning forward slightly to rest his hand on Éponine’s knee. “Then it’ll only be 42 hours until we leave.”

“Come on, Enjolras,” Grantaire groaned, resting his head on top of Eponine’s. “Your family can’t be that bad.”

“Yeah,” Éponine agreed, reaching to lace her fingers through Enjolras’s. “Look at my family. There’s no way that your family is as bad as mine.”

“And just be grateful tat we don’t need to visit my dad this Christmas,” Grantaire added, his voice laced with relief. 

There was a lot of information that Enjolras and Éponine didn’t know about Grantaire’s birthfather. They knew that the elder Grantaire left when Grantaire was thirteen and that their boyfriend would have been far happier if that had happened years before. They knew that his father was a heavy drinker (likely an alcoholic, though that word never slipped out of Grantaire’s mouth unless it was during a bout of his own self-loathing) and cruel to Grantaire’s mother. 

“My parents are pretty horrible in their own way,” Enjolras said, looking out the window as Paris flicked off in the distance. “Just don’t take anything they say seriously, okay?”

Grantaire grinned, throwing one of his feet onto Enjolras’s lap. “Since when do we take anything seriously?”

-

True to his word, they arrived in Lyon around 8 am, a man in a black suit waiting for them with a piece of white cardboard that simply read “Enjolras”. Enjolras’s shoulders slumped almost immediately as he looped a duffle bag over both arms and went over to the man, Éponine and Grantaire following him, arms full of luggage.

It took almost an hour to drive outside of Lyon to the Enjolras Estate. Éponine and Grantaire couldn’t help the way their jaws dropped as the driver pulled into the long driveway. Though they knew Enjolras came for money, they weren’t prepared for the acres of land that his family owned.

The driver opened the door to the car for them, ushering them towards the large double door. Before opening the door, Enjolras heaved a heavy sigh. He finally pushed it open, revealing a blonde woman standing in the foyer, hands folded in front of her.

“Hello, mère,” Enjolras said, straightening his back. Three maids rushed over to gather their luggage. Enjolras’s hand twitched, alarming Éponine and Grantaire that he was itching to say something about his own ability to take his luggage.

Enjolras’s mother gave him a cold smile, leaning up to place a kiss on his cheek before stepping back. “And you must be Enjolras’s… friends,” she said with a fake smile, taking in the appearance of Éponine and Grantaire. 

Both brunettes flushed under her scrutiny, knowing that neither looked their best. Éponine was still wearing only Grantaire’s hoodie and a pair of jeans while Grantaire’s ensemble was stained with paint. Their hair looked like a pair of bird’s nests, a result of Grantaire’s curls never able to be tamed and Éponine’s hair drying in odd directions. 

Needless to say, they didn’t meet the image of the Enjolras’s upper-class friends and family.

“My partners, mère,” Enjolras corrected his mother shortly. “I told you this. They aren’t my roommates, they aren’t my friends. They’re my partners and I love them.”

“Ugh,” Madam Enjolras sighed, waving off her son’s comments. “You’re acting ridiculous,” she commented before beckoning the trio to follow her up the stairs. Both Grantaire and Éponine longed to hold Enjolras’ hand or grip his arm to offer him some semblance of comfort during this ordeal, but their fear of his mother stopped them from showing such affection.

They all followed Enjolras’ mother up the winding stairs of the manor, towards the west wing of the house.

“Now, you two will be in these spare bedrooms,” Madam Enjolras informed Éponine and Grantaire, pointing to two rooms across from Enjolras’s.

“Mère,” Enjolras growled. “We can sleep in the same room. We do at home.”

Madam Enjolras scoffed, waving a hand. “Don’t be ridiculous, Sebastian. That is hardly appropriate,” she commented, glaring at her son. “Now far be it for me to comment on your… _roommates_ -”

“Partners,” Enjolras interjected coolly, glancing at Éponine and Grantaire. Both brunettes were shifting uncomfortably in the midst of the family quarrel. 

“But one day you’ll see your mistake and I won’t have you fall subject to the gossip of this city,” finished Madam Enjolras, her tone much more firm after Enjolras’s interruption.

Enjolras crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Mère, you should know by now that there is no way that I could ever care less about anything than I do about gossip. Especially when it concerns me.”

Madam Enjolras’s eyes narrowed darkly as she took a step closer to her son. Though Enjolras towered over her, she more than held her own ground. “I will not have you throw away everything we have worked so hard to give you because of your childish fantasies,” she gritted out, barely maintaining her poise. After her snap, she took a step back, again the picture of an upper-class wife. “Dinner will be served at six. I would advise you not to be late,” Madam Enjolras said, giving Éponine and Grantaire one more look over. 

She turned on her black pump and seemingly glided down the hallway and back downstairs, allowing Éponine and Grantaire to exhale the breath they were both holding.

“Well, she’s…” Éponine trailed off, searching desperately for the right word.

“Intense,” Grantaire finished, his eyes still firmly attached to where Madam Enjolras disappeared. “Fuck.”

Enjolras covered his face with both hands and sighed.

-

“So,” Monsieur Enjolras began, giving a cold glance to Éponine and Grantaire as they ate dinner. “What exactly do you two do?”

Grantaire and Eponine glanced over at each other and Grantaire immediately grabbed Éponine’s hand under the table. 

“Well, I’m an artist,” Grantaire began warily. 

Enjolras’s father glowered at Grantaire’s answer, clearly not liking what he heard. “And you?” He asked, turning towards Éponine.

“I work as a barrista,” ÉEponine answered. “Sometimes a bartender.”

“A _barrista_ ,” Madam Enjolras repeated. “Isn’t that merely the word they give café workers these days?”

Éponine quickly affirmed her suspicion. “I also take psychology part-time in university,” she added, wanting the approval of Enjolras’s parents for some reason unknown to her. They were clearly cruel people but she wanted her boyfriend’s family to like her. 

“Psychology,” Monsieur Enjolras repeated with disdain. “So I suppose Sebastian will be supporting both of you.”

Enjolras let out a deep breath and turned to his father, opening his mouth to argue.

“So how did you three get together then?” Enjolras’s younger sister, Charlotte, asked, eager to change the subject. She was shockingly identical to Enjolras, though she was three years younger than him. 

“Charlotte,” Madam Enjolras hissed, turning to her daughter. “I’m sure that Sebastian doesn’t-”

“It’s fine, mère,” Enjolras interrupted, a hint of a smirk crossing his face. “It was all just fortuitous timing. Grantaire and Éponine were dating when I realized that I was in love with him.”

“You forgot the part where I was in love with you for years first,” Grantaire interjected. “Not that anyone could blame me,” Grantaire joked. Charlotte and Éponine rewarded the attempt with pity laughs, though Enjolras’s parents remained stony-faced.

“Grantaire and I got together in the meantime,” Éponine continued the story, giving Grantaire’s hand a firm squeeze. “Though I knew he was still in love with Enjolras so we came to the conclusion that it was easier if we just shared him.”

Enjolras rested a hand on Éponine’s thigh, skimming his thumb over the fabric of her dress. “Eventually Éponine and I fell in love as well and that was that.”

“We’ve been happily together ever since,” Éponine concluded, shrugging her shoulders.

Both of Enjolras’s parents hummed noncommittally before turning back to their dinner. Aside from Charlotte’s occasional attempts at conversation, the family remained silent, all eager to get through the next day and a half as quickly as possible.

-

Enjolras stared up at the white ceiling, trying to hold back his anger. He couldn’t stand family gatherings, unable to take the bigotry and condescending comments for very long. 

In truth, he had started drifting from his family when he was fifteen and began to develop his own opinions. He could hardly stand a few hours around them now, save his sister. Charlotte was far more like Enjolras than either of their parents, which Enjolras gave thanks for. Though she often pretended to be the perfect upper-class princess, Enjolras knew that she spent most weekends clad in denim-studded shorts and backless tops, dancing with their landscape artist in the dingiest clubs in Lyon. 

The gentle creek of the door caused Enjolras to jolt up in his bed, though he could make out the figures of Éponine and Grantaire through the shadows. He settled back on his elbows as Grantaire shut the door behind him, locking it for good measure.

Éponine nearly sprinted across the room, jumping onto Enjolras’s massive and squishy bed. “This mattress is much nicer than ours,” she whispered, crawling towards the head of the bed to press a gentle kiss onto Enjolras’s mouth. 

Grantaire walked towards them, crawling into the bed next to Enjolras immediately. He greeted Enjolras in the same manner that Éponine did before Éponine wormed her way between them in her natural spot.

“Neither of us could sleep without you,” Eponine confided, resting her head on Enjolras’ shoulder and wrapping an arm around his middle. “We were texting about it.”

“Yeah,” Grantaire agreed, settling in next to Éponine, reaching around her to trace his fingers across the strip of skin that was exposed between Enjolras’s t-shirt and pyjama pants. “Your mother forgot to take away our phones.”

Enjolras opened his mouth to retort until he felt Éponine’s small hands pushing up the hem of his t-shirt. 

“I hate pajamas,” she complained, pushing his shirt until it was mid-chest, as far as it could go when he was laying down.

Grantaire chuckled into her hair before pulling her onto her back, moving to hover over her. “Then what is this monstrosity?” He asked, toying with the button of her Christmas themed flannel pajamas. 

“This is cute,” she shot back, gripping the lapels of the green shirt. “Besides, you know I don’t own pajamas and these were the only ones appropriate for family homes.”

Grantaire gave a mocking gasp before he tore his own t-shirt over his head. “Are you saying we don’t live in a family home?” He asked, tossing his shirt onto Enjolras’s floor. He moved his hand back to Éponine’s buttons, slowly sliding them undone.

“You know we live in a den of sin. Stop,” Éponine said, batting his hands away. “We’re at Enjolras’ parents.”

Enjolras considered her words before fully sliding his shirt off his frame, throwing it in the vicinity of Grantaire’s. He propped himself on his elbow, turning on his side towards Éponine, setting to work on the buttons that Grantaire abandoned. 

“My parents’ room is in the east wing,” he muttered softly, savouring the feeling of Éponine’s skin as his knuckles skimmed over her torso. 

“What about your sister?” Éponine asked, her breath catching as Grantaire pushed his increasingly hard cock against her thigh.

Enjolras scoffed. “Charlotte’s probably already sneaked out to the gatehouse,” Enjolras informed Éponine, pausing to cup her breast. “She’s been seeing the landscaper for the last year.”

Éponine opened her mouth to comment but was quickly cut off as Grantaire began to trail open mouthed kisses down her throat. Once Enjolras has completely undone her shirt, Éponine helped him by wriggling out of the sleeves before tangling her hand in his hair to drag him down to her.

Their lips met quickly, far rougher than Éponine anticipated. It was clear that Enjolras was eager to work out some of the frustration that his family forced him to suffer through with their constant criticism. His palm moved back up to her breast, causing her to moan into his mouth.

“No hickies!” Éponine demanded as she pulled away from Enjolras long enough to scold Grantaire. “I have to wear a low-cut dress tomorrow and I don’t want Enjolras’s parents to disapprove of me more than they already do!”

Grantaire smirked down at her before placing his lips against Enjolras’s collarbone. “Well, Enjolras and I don’t have that problem,” he muttered, his voice muffled by Enjolras’s skin. When the blond tried to muffle a moan, Éponine shot Grantaire a wicked grin, slipping below the blankets, eager to encourage Enjolras’s sounds of pleasure to spill out.

-

The trip from Lyon to Dijon was a relief, all three parties eager to leave Enjolras’ parents house. Though neither Éponine nor Enjolras had the chance to meet Grantaire’s family, there was no way that they could be worse than Enjolras’s.

Grantaire had only ever spoken of his mother and step-father in glowing terms, equating his mother to a saint and his step-father to a saviour. The other two couldn’t wait to meet them.

When the taxi pulled up in front of Grantaire’s childhood home, Enjolras and Éponine were already impressed. Though the townhouse was much smaller than Enjolras’s stately home, it was still rather large. It was well taken care of, the white paint that coated it fresh from the summer. It was adorned with Christmas lights and decorations, giving it a holiday feel that contrasted sharply with the bare houses around it.

Grantaire bounded up to the house eagerly, arms full of luggage, as soon as the cab pulled to a halt outside the house. He burst into the house, Enjolras and Éponine right behind him.

As soon as the door opened, Grantaire came face to face with an almost identical face, though the stranger’s eyes were a lighter blue and his hair was more closely cropped to his head. The stranger launched forward without a word, crushing Grantaire to him in hug.

“Oh, dear brother!” The younger man exclaimed dramatically. “How I’ve missed you these long, lonely months.”

Grantaire pushed his brother off of him. “Shut up, Gaspard,” he demanded, using the minimal power he held over the other Grantaire as his older brother.

“Whoa,” Gaspard said, raising an eyebrow. “How on earth did you manage to wrangle these two, ‘Xand? They’re hot!” Grantaire’s brother asked, giving Enjolras and Éponine a once over. “I don’t even like guys and I’m pretty sure that even I would go for this one.”

Éponine laughed loudly at Gaspard’s comment, not because it was particularly funny but because of the shocked expression on Enjolras’s face. “I’m afraid he’s spoken for,” Éponine commented, lacing her arm through Enjolras’s.

“And what about you, ma cheri?” Gaspard asked charmingly, leaning against the door frame. 

A hand popped out from the kitchen and smacked Gaspard on the back of the head. “Leave your brother’s girlfriend alone, Gaspard,” a man said exasperatedly, moving forward to greet Grantaire with a huge hug.

The man in question was tall and gangly, grey beginning to tinge his black hair and a pair of horn-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. His French wasn’t fantastic, laced with an English accent that remained even after almost a decade in France.

“You must be Monsieur McKinnon,” Enjolras said, stepping forward to shake the other man’s hand. Grantaire’s step-father merely laughed and drew the blond into a hug. 

“I’m not one for formalities,” he commented before stepping back to offer Éponine a similar embrace. “You can call me Simon.”

“It is lovely to meet you, Simon,” Éponine said politely as the older man drew back. 

Simon laughed again. “My name sounds so much nicer in your beautiful accent, my dear,” he said kindly.

Éponine flushed at his compliment. Though she tried to mask it, Éponine’s accent reflected the lifestyle she was forced into as a child, layered with the slang and pronunciations of the criminal underground of Paris. The French often looked down upon her once she began speaking, but as a relative newcomer, Simon held none of these prejudices. 

“Do you often charm younger women when I’m not around?” A kind looking woman asked, clearly Grantaire’s mother. “If this young woman didn’t already have two strapping young men under her thumb, I might be jealous,” she added with a wink in Éponine’s direction.

“Yes, I’ve already got my hands full,” Éponine joked, causing Gaspard to laugh loudly.

“Not with Alexandre!” He retorted, causing Simon to smack him in the stomach.

“Be nice to your brother, Gaspard,” Grantaire’s mother cooed before reaching up to embrace her son. “He’s been away so long.”

Éponine turned to Grantaire’s older brother and smirked. Making sure that Simon and Marie weren’t paying attention, she held her hands a fair-ways apart before Enjolras could bat her hands down once he deducted what it was she was gesturing about. 

Gaspard smirked and mouthed “impressive” over the touching family moment that was happening between them. He glanced around once more before adding a silent, “it runs in the family.”

Rolling her eyes, Éponine gripped Enjolras’s arm while the blond shot Grantaire’s younger brother a death glare, understanding perfectly what his intentions towards Éponine were.

Grantaire’s mother was almost a foot shorter than him, though she sported the same big blue eyes and dark hair that Grantaire possessed. Grantaire stooped over to give his mother a crushing hug, muttering how much he missed her into her hair.

Éponine’s hand drifted down to lace her fingers through Enjolras’s, observing the scene before them. She was glad that at least one of the three had a decent home life.

Marie pulled back from Grantaire and looked over the two relative strangers standing in her foyer. “Well, you all must want to settle in!” She exclaimed, moving towards a staircase. “Follow me!”

The trio complied with Grantaire’s mother’s request, following her up the short flight of stairs to the top floor of the house.

“Now, Alexandre,” Marie began as she led the trio down the hall. “I moved your mattress onto the floor so that no one would fall off the bed.”

“Maman, we sleep in the same bed all the time and no one has ever fallen off the bed!” Grantaire laughed. “At least not while we were all sober.”

Marie’s expression fell slightly at Grantaire’s comment. Guilt flashed across Grantaire’s face at the mention of the forbidden substance. “Nevertheless, I would feel awful if anyone got hurt.”

Eponine elbowed her way past Grantaire in the small hallway. “Thank you so much, Madam McKinnon,” she said gratefully, covering for Grantaire’s slip. “It means a lot to Enjolras and I that you would be so accepting of our relationship.”

Enjolras nodded somewhat stiffly behind her, uncomfortable with the warm family scene unfolding in front of him. Though Éponine also had a strangled family life, Enjolras didn’t have the benefit of being particularly close with his siblings so intimate familial bonds were foreign to him. 

“Oh, don’t be silly, dear!” Marie laughed, placing a hand on Éponine’s shoulder in a way that was already familiar. “Anyone who could make mon petit Alexandre so happy is more than welcome in my home, in any capacity. I certainly wouldn’t begrudge anyone who offered my son love and acceptance.”

With those kind words, Marie moved to go back downstairs, yelling at Simon to check on the turkey.

Éponine turned around to Grantaire, a huge smile on her face. “So your mother is basically the best then?”

Grantaire couldn’t help but smile back. “Pretty much,” he answered before pushing past Éponine to walk into his room. 

True to Marie’s word, the double-sized mattress was on the ground next to a wooden bed frame. Grantaire’s room was covered in posters of bands like Joy Division and My Bloody Valentine, as well as his own drawings. Marie had clearly given Grantaire full license when it came to decorating as he had drawn designs and portraits of celebrities on the walls.

Flopping down on the mattress, Grantaire placed his arms behind his head and sighed. Éponine moved to curl up beside him as Enjolras inspected the room, looking for any treasures that would reveal more about his boyfriend as a teenager.

-

“So, Simon,” Enjolras began as he cut his turkey. “How long have you lived in France?”

“Oh, God, you’re going to make me do math!” The older man laughed, turning to his wife. “It’s been about eight years, hasn’t it love?” 

Marie nodded thoughtfully, trying to do the math in her head as well. “About that, I think.”

“I moved here to be a teacher. English, if you can believe it,” Simon joked, moving to place a hand on his wife’s knee. “That’s where I met our young Alexandre.”

Grantaire nodded, confirming Simon’s story. “And to think, if I wasn’t such a shithead, they would have never met.”

Marie scoffed. “Stop, Alexandre, that’s not what happened.”

“Yeah, turns out ‘Xand is actually good at something,” Gaspard muttered before kicking Grantaire under the table. His comment earned a glare from Enjolras and Éponine. Éponine opened her mouth to snap back at Grantaire’s younger brother before Enjolras reached under the table to clutch her hand.

“Grantaire’s gifted in many regards,” Enjolras retorted, running a thumb over the back of Eponine’s hand to calm her down.

“Yes, _many_ ,” Éponine managed to grit out, earning a laugh from Grantaire.

“Calm down, you two!” Grantaire exclaimed, resting a hand on Eponine’s shoulder. “We’re brothers. Ruthlessly insulting each other is what we do!”

Marie snorted lightly, shaking her head. “Even if it does break their poor mother’s heart,” said Marie, theatrically clutching a hand to her heart. 

“Anyway,” Simon interjected, trying to go back to his story. “Alexandre was incredibly gifted at English, outshining the rest of his classmates. He devoured the reading list by the end of September and I had to find more complicated books for him to read. His classmates were stumbling over Peter Pan whereas Alexandre would finish To Kill A Mockingbird in a matter of a few weeks.”

“We met at a parent-teacher interview,” Marie filled in, moving her hand to affectionately push a lock of shaggy hair behind Simon’s ear. “And hit it off immediately.”

Simon turned to smile serenely at Marie, obviously still deeply in love with her even after nearly a decade together. Éponine couldn’t help but rest her chin in her hand, gazing dreamily at the couple across from her.

“Gross, no love at the dining room table,” Gaspard interjected, wrinkling his nose at his parents.

Scoffing, Grantaire wrapped his arm around Éponine’s shoulders. “You’re just mad because you can’t get a girlfriend.”

“I can get a girlfriend, _connard_ ,” Gaspard bit back, gripping his fork tighter in his hand. “I choose not to have one. There’s a difference.”

Simon chuckled at their antics. “Come on, Alexandre, give your brother a break. We can’t all be a master at love like you clearly are.”

“Yep,” Grantaire said happily, stretching back in his seat. “I’m irresistible. It’s a hard life.”

Éponine smacked Grantaire in the stomach, giving him a small glare.

“What?!” Grantaire exclaimed. “It’s true!”

“It’s barely true,” Éponine countered, shaking her head.

“Well,” Enjolras interjected, turning to look at Éponine. “We did both want him more than each other at first,” he pointed out, earning a shrug from Éponine.

“I would call that a coincidence,” she countered before giving Grantaire a sly smile. The dark haired man shot her a wink before moving back to his meal. 

Simon and Marie shared a quick smile, both thankful that their troubled son had found two devoted lovers to look after him in Paris. Grantaire had always been a self-destructive sort, taking after his biological father, and coupled with the intense desire for love that he inherited from his mother, he was an easy man to take advantage of. Even from the brief time they knew Éponine and Grantaire, it was clear to Grantaire’s parents that they didn’t need to worry about their eldest son any longer. 

-

“You know that your brother hit on Éponine several times, right?” Enjolras asked, brushing some of Grantaire’s hair off of his forehead. The trio were getting ready to settle in for bed, still exhausted from the emotional turmoil and travel that the last few days had brought.

“Oh, that,” Grantaire said with a shrug. “I wouldn’t worry about it. She isn’t his type.”

“Excuse me?” Éponine interjected, leaning more towards Enjolras. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Grantaire smirked at her, running a hand down her arm, still inwardly annoyed at her flannel pajamas. “It means I’m pretty sure he’s gay.”

Enjolras furrowed his brow. “You’re _pretty sure_?”

“Well,” Grantaire began as he settled back into his pillows, turning on his side. “He never seems to be interested in women. He only has posters of men on his wall, I caught him blowing some guy in the bathroom of a bar downtown last year.” Grantaire paused for a moment, trying to remember that night and desperately wishing he could erase the image from his mind. “He doesn’t know I saw.”

“Why didn’t you start off with that one?!” Éponine exclaimed, letting Grantaire pull her down into his arms. Enjolras merely raised an eyebrow and laid down next to Éponine, letting the woman loop her arms around his waist to tug him closer. Grantaire’s arm snaked around Enjolras, pulling him closer as Enjolras reached over Éponine to tangle his hand in 

“I like this mattress on the floor idea,” Éponine commented through a yawn. “It feels safer.”

“We’re keeping the bed frame, Éponine,” Enjolras said sharply, or at least as sharply as he could given his exhaustion. “We’re not freshmen.”

Grantaire chuckled against the back of Éponine’s neck. “Says the man who keeps his books in milk crates.”

“There’s a shortage of shelf space in our apartment,” Enjolras shot back, giving Grantaire’s hair a playful tug. “It’s practical.”

“They make me want to make you a mix tape,” Grantaire shot back. “A little Replacements, maybe some REM….”

“My Bloody Valentine?” Éponine interjected, shooting a smirk back at Grantaire. “Judging from this room, you were such a cliché teenager.”

“Ask me what my favourite book was when I was seventeen,” prompted Grantaire, nudging his nose behind Éponine’s ear.

Enjolras decided to play along. “What was your favourite book when you were seventeen?” 

“Catcher in the Rye.”

Grantaire’s answer earned a chorus of groans and laughter from the other two, which prompted Gaspard to bang on their shared wall.

“Stop fucking!” Grantaire’s younger brother yelled. “I’m too tired for your shit, Alexandre!”

The trio calmed their laughter, settling back against each other.

“Sebastian and Alexandre,” Éponine said quietly under her breath. “My lovely boys.”

Both men snuggled closer to their girlfriend and before long, the three of them were asleep.

-

They arrived in Gare de Nord at noon a day later, all three sad to say good bye to Grantaire’s family. It was rare that the three were greeted with such acceptance by anyone other than their friends. They didn’t let it get them down, but it was refreshing nonetheless.

They opted to take a cab back to their apartment, too exhausted to bother with Métro transfers. It was a pricey trip but it was worth it to rid themselves of the hassle. 

When they clambered up the steps towards their apartment, they could faintly hear noise from the TV. The trio glanced at each other warily, wondering who it was that could be in their apartment.

Enjolras pushed the other two behind him, earning two murmurs of disapproval at his self-sacrificing attitude before he pushed open the door.

Éponine let out a breath of relief at the sight of her two siblings sitting on the couch, watching some horrible Christmas special that was in stop-motion animation.

Grantaire gave the television a wary look. Stop-motion always creeped him out. 

“What are you guys doing here?” Éponine asked, leaning over to kiss them each on the forehead. Azelma took the offering happily, though Gavroche wrinkled his nose slightly at the show of affection. 

Azelma shrugged, taking another handful of popcorn. “Madam et Monsieur got to be a little too much to handle,” Azelma admitted, using the not-so-affectionate nicknames that she had given their parents. “We got Montparnasse to pick the lock.”

Éponine rolled her eyes, flopping down on the couch next to her sister. “We’ll get you a key after the holidays,” she promised, giving a pointed look to Enjolras and Grantaire, who nodded in agreement before moving into the living room. Enjolras lifted Éponine up to place her in his lap while Grantaire squeezed onto the couch, accepting Éponine’s feet in her lap. Gavroche happily moved to the floor, flicking through the TV channels to find a more interesting movie.

“Hey kid,” Grantaire said, causing Gavroche to look back at him. “I have A Muppet’s Christmas Carol on DVD. I highly recommend,” Grantaire winked, nodding over to the shelf with the DVDs on it.

Gavroche gave Grantaire a broad grin before rushing over to the shelf, eager to watch the Christmas classic.

Éponine nuzzled closer to her boyfriends, gazing happily at her siblings.

It had been a busy few days, filled with emotional ups and downs, but sitting on her couch in the arms of her boyfriends, Éponine knew that she had finally found a family worth fighting for.


End file.
